Rants of a Lady
by chinchin.unicorn
Summary: Ever wonder what women think? Well here you go. Warning: it might not be as pretty or as classy as you would think.
1. Chapter 1

**For Project Team Beta's 500 Challenge**  
**Prompt: Weapon**

**Vote my entry at projectteambeta . com**

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Female genitalia. Love box. Secret garden. Cave of wonders. ({})

Whatever you want to call it. Doesn't matter to me. My beaver's currently gushing out waves of bloodiness, clots and all. Didn't see that one coming, huh? Guys don't understand. They like to sympathize, laugh, and make jokes, but until their ding-dong starts weeping life's liquid, they can shove their words up where the sun don't shine. High up. Deep deep. All the way up in there. That's how I feel about that.

And what comes with this time of month? Maxipads. Horrible invention. In my opinion at least. They rub against what doesn't want to be rubbed, they itch where leg meets crevice meets leg, and they smoosh stuff that shouldn't be smooshed against other things that don't appreciate the smooshiness being smooshed. In other words, maxipads are one of the banes of my existence, only second to the reason why we need maxipads in the first place.

There's only one thing that makes a visit from Aunt Sally even remotely bearable. Acting as a defender for all things clotted for up to four hours—or two on heavy days—tampons. Because of Aunt Sally's unexpected visit, I was stuck sticking bane of existence number two down the nicely ruined blue undies I tried so hard not to ruin. I hate that. It's so difficult keeping good underwear around.

It's a fun feeling having to march through a store with only one goal in mind. Either everyone can read my mind and knows I'm on the rag or I've just bled through my pants. Like I said. Fun. It's even better putting that lonely box on the conveyor belt and the cash register dude is...well a dude. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Guys don't understand. They judge you with their beady eyes while laughing on the inside at the unfortunate circumstance of ladies before handing you your purchase, receipt, and "coupons...for next time."

And where I'd like to blush and argue that they aren't mine, all I can really do is smile and rush away because I have eighteen little arrows that would like a turn to save me by shooting up my love canal, damming it up for the time being. Rants of a lady. You know you want to hear it, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**For Project Team Beta's 500 Challenge**  
**Prompt: Adventureful**

**Vote for my entry at projectteambeta . com**

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Cotton. Oversized. High-waisted. Loose. Floral patterned. Uncool. Granny panties.

And comfortable. Did I forget that? Oops. You like your tightie whities. We like our granny panties. Don't judge.

You don't say it, but I can see it. In your eyes. Those green depths…well, they churn. Violently. Dangerously. You hate them. You think they aren't exciting enough. Aren't…sexy enough. That I would look better in something silky or lacy or stringy.

Something that bares ass or a hint of cheek. Something see-through. Transparent. That gives you that perfect little peek at…you know what. You love that part of me. You confess it every night, singing words of gratitude, worship, and devotion. Down there? That's not the problem.

So what's wrong with my granny panties? Am I not living life on the edge? Is it not thrilling enough? Do I not grab it by the horns? Take charge? Show who's boss? Let's not kid ourselves. We both know who runs this relationship. Your lips may not move, but oh man! The complaints you yield.

Here's another aspect of a lady's life that you just don't understand. I'd like to see you sport some butt floss. Guess what. Asses? They don't get cavities. Lace? Try itching that discreetly. Silk? One harsh tug over that big ass and boom. Rip. Expensive and ruined. Just like that.

So until you're willing to dress up your underwear, show that fine ass off with something fancy, non-cotton, form-fitting, and so uncomfortable you're tempted to cut off your own dick in order to save yourself a world of torture, we'll talk, and I'll consider wearing something other than granny panties.

But until then, listen well. Because this lady is ranting and it's important.


End file.
